Secrets of the Silent Witch - Volume 3 - Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

A Love Triangle Is a Thing of Beauty

Once she knew students from Minerva’s would be at the chess competition, Monica stopped sleeping well at night. And on the morning of the competition, she once again woke up feeling awful. The sky outside was still dim.

She closed her eyes, intending to get some more sleep, when her once-friend’s voice came back to her. You’d be better off living in a mountain cabin somewhere far away from everyone else. The words in her memories had chipped away at her heart so many times already. She sniffled, then covered her head with her blanket.

A few moments later, she heard soft tapping and clacking. Wondering what it was, she pulled the edge of the blanket very slightly away from her face and looked in the direction of the sounds.

“Oh, wait, I think I can do this… There we go! Heck yeah!”

“A strong move. But what will you do about this?”

“Ahhh… Grrr… B-but that’s…that’s…!”

On the floor of her attic room was her partner—a black cat named Nero—and a beauty in a maid’s outfit—Louis’s contracted spirit, Ryn. They were sitting around a chessboard Monica had borrowed from Professor Boyd to practice with.

She figured they were playing chess, but then she saw the pieces on their sides, piled up in alternating colors—black and white. Nero managed to pick up a piece with his paw and carefully lay it atop the pile…which tipped the tower’s balance and caused the entire thing to come tumbling down.

“Ahhhhh!” groaned the cat. “I knew my paws weren’t meant for this!”

Frustrated, Nero slapped the chessboard with his front leg. Ryn calmly cleaned up the scattered pieces.

“What are you doing?” asked Monica hesitantly.

Without a shred of embarrassment, Nero held up a chess piece and said, “Playing chess!”

“We take turns stacking black and white pieces,” continued Ryn. “Whoever causes them to fall is the loser.”

That doesn’t sound like the game I know, thought Monica with a wry grin as she got out of bed. If Ryn was here, was it time for her regular report?

As Monica sluggishly began to get ready for the day, Ryn, still putting away the pieces, said, “I have heard that today is the extramural chess competition and that next week is the academy festival. Because many outsiders will be entering and exiting the premises, Lord Louis has ordered me to serve as an aide to the Silent Witch.”

With the Casey incident still fresh in everyone’s memories, Monica understood Louis’s caution. And if Nero and Ryn were guarding Felix, she could focus all her attention on chess.

“Um, Miss Ryn?” said Monica.

“Yes?”

“About Casey, um… What ended up happening to her?”

Under normal circumstances, Casey would have been executed for plotting to assassinate Felix. However, Louis had agreed to protect her so long as she explained the entire plot, without lies or omissions.

But if Casey resisted the investigation, then… Monica knew how cruel and shrewd Louis could be. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling.

“Lady Casey Grove, daughter of Count Bright, has complied with the investigation,” said the spirit. “Lord Louis is already in secret contact with the count.”

Casey’s father, Count Bright, had apparently testified that he was responsible for the entire incident and firmly denied any ties to the Kingdom of Landor. Louis, however, viewed Landor as having had a hand in the plot and was now investigating how they’d acquired the Spiralflame—the lethal magic item Casey had used.

“And a few days ago, Lady Casey Grove was sent to a convent in the north,” Ryn said in conclusion.

“I…I see…”

Every time she remembered the sadness in Casey’s voice, Monica’s chest grew tight. Casey had felt she owed a debt to the Kingdom of Landor and when she’d found out Duke Clockford intended to attack the country, she’d come here to try and stop him.

If Felix eventually became king, the duke might have used his influence over the prince to attack Landor and start a war with the Empire. Though the Empire was powerful, it had a new, young leader, and its internal order was still unstable. Strategically, it was a good time to strike.

Still, Monica couldn’t sit by and let Felix be killed. What’s the right thing to do in such a situation? she wondered.

Neither faction was a monolith. Each contained people with various motives—those with their own ambitions, those working for the benefit of the nation, those driven by ideals or spurred on by a desire for peace. There were so many different purposes, ideals, and desires at play. That was just how politics worked.

Even after becoming a Sage, Monica continued to believe it was best to steer clear of such matters, locking herself away in a cabin in the mountains. But now, it seemed she would have to change her ways and face the truth she’d ignored for so long.

The prince is such an amazing, talented person, she thought. Why would he be a pawn in Duke Clockford’s schemes?

Everyone knew how outstanding Felix was. But he was equally famous for being under the thumb of his maternal grandfather, Duke Clockford.

I can’t let Duke Clockford’s puppet become king. Monica would never forget Casey’s face as she said those words.

Does the prince want a war with Landor and the Empire? she wondered. Does he even care…?

Monica still didn’t know very much about who she was guarding—the prince named Felix Arc Ridill. As for the other council members, compared to when she’d first met Cyril and Elliott, she felt like she was beginning to grasp who they were as people. Each of them had things or beliefs they kept close to their hearts and fought to keep safe.

But what about Felix? What is he fighting to protect?

From her point of view, Felix was a gentle, sociable person who was amazing at everything he did…but impossible to read.

And yet, he had picked up those berries for her when they’d first met. He had helped her with ballroom dancing and horseback riding when she’d run into trouble. He had encouraged her to take part in the chess competition. She didn’t think all of that kindness was a lie.

I can’t let him die, she thought. I…can’t.

That was why the chess competition and school festival both needed to go off without a hitch. Monica turned back to Nero and Ryn.

“Let’s, um, discuss where we’ll be today. Nero, you keep watch for any strange mana, like you did with the Spiralflame. Miss Ryn, wind spirits can hear distant sounds, right? Please keep an ear out for any suspicious conversations near the prince.”

“Agreed!” said Nero, throwing a paw high in the air.

“Understood.” Ryn nodded before raising her own hand and making a suggestion. “I was actually talking with Sir Black Cat about ways to remain inconspicuous while guarding the prince on campus.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” cut in Nero. “Check this out, Monica!”

A black shroud and a golden mist appeared and wrapped around Nero’s and Ryn’s bodies, respectively. Behind these veils, their forms began to twist and distort.

Eventually, the black and gold mists dissipated, revealing two young men wearing Serendia Academy uniforms. One was tall with black hair, and the other was skinny with blond hair. The black-haired one was obviously Nero. But then, did that mean the blond-haired man was…?

“Wait… Is that you, Miss Ryn?”

The blond man gave a bow. “It is indeed. I am Rynzbelfeid, the contracted spirit of Louis Miller.”

Monica had read once in a book that spirits had no gender and thus could transform into either a man or a woman when taking on human form. Still, seeing the very moment she turned from a woman into a man was startling. She was still slender, but her frame was now definitely that of an adult male, and her voice had dropped significantly. The long blond hair she usually wore gathered behind her was now short as well.

“What do you think of that?” Nero said proudly. “Now we can hang around the school without anyone batting an eyelid!”

Next to him, Ryn impassively held up a romance novel. “In this book, the heroine gets pestered by a bad man. But in one scene, the man she’s secretly in love with interrupts and says, ‘Don’t lay a hand on my woman.’”

“Uh, I see…?” replied Monica.

“If you are pestered by someone in the same way, I will re-create this scene, so please, be at ease and feel free to involve yourself with bad men.”

“……”

Monica was speechless.

Nero’s eyes glowed. “Hey, that’s pretty good! It sounds fun! I wanna try, too!”

“Then it shall be a love triangle among the Silent Witch, Lord Black Cat, and me. My heart dances at this development.”

Monica’s heart was not dancing at all. She put a hand up to her forehead, a pensive look on her face. “Um, both of you,” she said. “If you look like adults wearing student uniforms, I think you’ll only stand out more…”

The black- and blond-haired men stopped moving.

“Wh-what?!” exclaimed Nero, half meowing.

“Oh my goodness,” said Ryn.

It seemed like neither of them understood how old they looked. Both of them appeared to be in their mid-twenties in human form—which would doubtless arouse considerable suspicion when paired with a school uniform.

Once Monica had explained, the two of them put their heads together and began strategizing—arguing over what clothes they should wear instead. But right from the beginning, Nero could transform into a cat and Ryn into a bird. There was no need for them to go to the trouble of disguising themselves as humans.

However, they were now discussing outfits with such seriousness that Monica decided to leave them alone and make her usual morning coffee.

Serendia Academy’s dorm rooms were generally made for two people, but in exchange for a large monetary contribution, a student could receive a single room. Lana was one such student, even though her father was only a baron. Her family must have donated a considerable sum.

When she got to Lana’s room, Monica found a middle-aged servant woman and a dresser covered in unfamiliar items. And before long, the room filled with Monica’s shrieks.

“Uwaaaaahhh, it huuuuurts…!”

“Come on, Monica, exhale! Say phew!”

“Guh…!”

“Not guh! Phew!” Lana, standing behind Monica, pulled the corset’s strings tighter, then swiftly tied them up. “It might hurt a little at first, but you’ll get used to it in no time at all…,” she continued. “Actually, this one’s just for casual clothing. Corsets for parties are even more elaborate, you know.”

Apparently, party corsets even included frames meant to fluff out the wearer’s skirt. Monica was finally getting a taste of the struggles glamorous society women endured behind the scenes. She put on her school uniform over the corset. Apparently, Lana had called her here to lend it to her. She even offered to do Monica’s makeup for the day, partly as practice for the upcoming ball.

Lana sat Monica down in front of the dresser and, with practiced hands, used pins to hold back the other girl’s hair.

“If this were an evening party, I’d give you the most gorgeous makeup, but since you’re going to a chess competition, I’ll keep it light,” said Lana. “Oh, I know. Let’s bring your bangs into a slight slant. That should do a lot to change up your look.”

It’s only a chess competition. Is any of this really necessary? wondered Monica, a little bewildered.

“Hey, I’m not trying to pry, but…,” murmured Lana, trailing off.

“Huh?”

“There might be someone you don’t want to meet there, right? At the chess competition, I mean.”

Monica’s shoulders immediately tensed up. Lana was right. It wasn’t guaranteed anyone who knew her would be there, but just hearing that students from Minerva’s were coming set her nerves on edge.

She clammed up as Lana began dabbing white powder onto her cheeks.

“Put on some makeup, change your hair, and you’ll look completely different,” Lana continued. “Even if you do run into whoever it is, they might not even recognize you.”

“…!”

For Monica, who had only ever thought to pull her hood down over her face to keep people from noticing her, Lana’s words were like a revelation.

“My father once told me that a person’s first impression of you is mostly based on posture and expression. Whether your features are pretty is generally not as important.”

Apparently, the corset had been meant to fix Monica’s posture more than her figure. Whenever Monica started to hunch over, it would dig into her, forcing her to sit up straight whether she liked it or not.

Then Lana began to apply makeup that would make the color of Monica’s face appear brighter. She hid the darker areas with white powder and topped it with a touch of blush. Monica had never taken care of her eyebrows, so Lana cleaned them up a little. For her dry, cracked lips, she used a beeswax cream to bring out their shine, then added a tiny bit of lip color to accentuate Monica’s complexion. Finally, Lana took a pair of thin-rimmed glasses from a rectangular case and placed them on Monica’s nose. They didn’t have proper lenses, so they wouldn’t affect her vision, but Monica was still a little flustered wearing glasses for the first time.

“There! All done!” said Lana with a grin before taking a step to the side so Monica could see herself in the dresser’s mirror.

And when Monica did so, her eyes grew wide, and her mouth fell open. Reflected in the mirror was a girl with a healthy complexion.

A little makeup obviously wasn’t going to transform her into a beauty who would turn heads wherever she went. The girl in the mirror was simple and plain, with round eyes, a low nose, and a small mouth. The kind of girl you could find anywhere.

Nevertheless, the usually frail-looking Monica now appeared bright and healthy. That alone was a huge shock. More than anything, though, the glasses made her look more mature. She doubted anyone would mistake her for a preteen.

“I look… I look so healthy!” she exclaimed.

“That’s your first impression?” asked Lana, a little exasperated. She seemed satisfied with her work, however. “Glasses can really change a person’s look. It’s kind of nice every once in a while, don’t you think?”

“Yeah! …Yeah!” Monica nodded several times, her cheeks flushing. Lana, in high spirits, gave a proud sniff and told her servant to bring something over.

What more could there be? wondered Monica. This is all so wonderful already!

As she continued to gape at herself in the mirror, the servant brought an unfamiliar metal tool up behind her. It looked vaguely like a pair of scissors but with rounded tubes instead of sharp blades. The handle was made of wood. To Monica, who didn’t know what it was for, it looked like an instrument of torture…and no sooner had this thought occurred to her than the servant began to heat the tool with fire.

“L-Lana…? What is that thing? It looks like a torture device…”

“A torture device? You… No, this is an iron.”

“A…a heated iron?” Monica thought of the irons used to brand livestock. She began to shake, wondering if Lana was about to press that thing against her skin. Lana looked at her, eyes narrowed.

“A curling iron,” she said. “It’s for curling your hair.”

“Curling…my hair?” It was all Monica could manage to blankly parrot back the words. She had never heard of such a thing.

Lana picked up a comb and turned toward Monica. “This is the main event. You must promise me not to move your head at all, starting now. Okay?”

On the morning of the chess competition, the student council members were required to assemble a little earlier than usual in order to welcome the students from the other schools. When the rest of the student council saw Monica heading to the reception room they’d be using, their expressions changed all at once.

Everyone had noticed her new look, and they were staring—and not in an oh, from what land doth this beautiful princess hail? sort of way, either.

“Lady Norton looks like a second-year student in the advanced course…,” murmured Elliott.

That said it all. In other words, she generally either looked like a second-year student in the intermediate course or someone even younger. Elliott’s remark might have come off as rude to some people, but not to Monica. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded vigorously.

“D-do I really?”

“Yeah, you really do,” muttered Elliott vaguely.

Monica basked in this confirmation, deeply moved. For someone who others had always described as having a child’s body or a baby face, being told she looked her age was the greatest compliment she could think of.

Right now, she was wearing a corset to correct her bad posture, her face was brighter thanks to the makeup, and she had glasses on. Her light-brown hair had a slight curl to it at the ends, and she was wearing it half up, tied with her usual ribbon. Her new appearance was by no means gaudy, but just a little bit of curling at the tips of her hair and a different style had really changed the way she looked.

Monica now gave the impression of an utterly normal, healthy girl. Unfortunately, the others’ surprise at her transformation only proved how unhealthy she normally appeared.

As Monica quietly giggled to herself in delight, Cyril said dubiously, “I wasn’t aware you had poor eyesight, Accountant Norton.” His question was only natural—she never wore glasses.

She shook her head and replied, “These aren’t real lenses.”

“Then why do you need to wear them at all?”

The false glasses were purely a disguise meant to fool any acquaintances Monica might run into. But ever since putting them on, she’d had another thought, too.

“When I wear glasses like this…,” she began, looking up at Cyril and balling her hand into a fist, “I look like I’m really good at chess!”

“……”

“I look like I’m really good!”

“……”

Cyril fell silent. There was a strange, incomprehensible expression on his face.

Bridget muttered, “If you don’t have it where it counts, there’s no point.”

“But looks are important, too,” Neil cut in with a wry grin. “Last year, when I took part, people were wondering what a student in the intermediate course was doing there…” He spoke casually, but it was clear the comment had gotten to him.

“I…I see,” stammered Cyril in response.

Neil’s gaze settled somewhere far off in the distance. “I still think about it sometimes. Maybe I won last year’s game because my opponent was treating me like a child…”

“You mustn’t put yourself down like that,” Felix gently admonished. “You played splendidly. No one would say otherwise.”

After directing a soft smile at Neil, Felix turned to look at Monica. He took a lock of her hair between his fingers and brought it to his lips.

“Absolutely stunning,” he said. “You’re always pretty, but today you look all the more refined and lovely. Your beauty is like a flower whose tightly closed buds have begun to open, luring the butterflies to rest their wings on your petals.”

Monica didn’t understand a single word of Felix’s poetic phrasing, so she decided to simply ask him directly.

“D-do I look like a student in the…advanced course?”

“You do indeed.”

Monica didn’t say a word, but her lips trembled with suppressed glee.

“Oh,” said Felix. “I see that had more of an effect.”

Monica didn’t have much interest in fashion—none at all, in fact. For a girl who had hidden herself away in a cabin and never gone out to see anyone, fashion wasn’t exactly a necessity.

But since coming to Serendia Academy and having Lana teach her how to braid her hair, her mindset had started to shift ever so slightly—at least enough for Claudia’s “child body” comments to bother her.

“It’s nearly time,” said Bridget, glancing at the clock. “I think we should leave the idle games at that, sir.”

Felix reluctantly removed his hand from Monica’s hair, then looked around at everyone.

“In that case,” he said, “let’s go greet the students from the University and Minerva’s.”

At the mention of her former school, Monica’s jubilation faded, and she collected herself. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay… If I stand up straight and don’t act shy, then unless something crazy happens, nobody will know it’s me. She took a quiet, deep breath, then headed off with the other student council members.

As they walked, Monica had her once-friend on her mind—Bernie Jones. Now that she thought about it, Bernie had been the one to introduce her to chess. She’d never even heard of it before then, but she’d found some students playing the game in one of the classrooms at Minerva’s and asked him about it.

“Bernie? Bernie? What are those people doing?”

“That’s chess. It’s a game you play on a board… Just an idle amusement people use to kill time,” he’d said, snorting derisively. “Minerva’s is for studying magic. Coming here and establishing a chess club is absurd. We all made it into the greatest mage-training institution in the realm, and we should spend our time mastering magecraft.”

Bernie had looked at those students in the chess club with such scorn—Monica felt certain he wouldn’t be caught dead playing the game.

The chess competition was to be held in a multipurpose classroom on the second floor of the Serendia Academy school building. In the room, the students and chaperone teachers from the University and Minerva’s were already seated and chatting amongst themselves.

As the student council members and players from Serendia Academy entered, all conversation immediately ceased.

Hiding behind Felix, who was walking in front, Monica glanced at the table for Minerva’s.

Their chaperone was a young, male teacher who seemed a little lost. His dark, curly brown hair was mussed up as if he hadn’t combed it that morning, and he wore the clothes of a scholar who didn’t particularly care about his appearance.

Monica didn’t recognize him. He was young, so he’d probably become a teacher after her graduation. We definitely don’t know each other, she thought. So he should be fine…

She shifted her gaze away from the chaperone to the three students behind him. The two standing in front were people she’d never seen before. The third stood behind the other two, and she couldn’t make out their face, but when she caught a glimpse of blond hair peeking out, her heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat, and she started to hear the rushing of her blood deep within her ears.

Then the boy left the shadow of the other students and boldly walked toward Felix. His behavior betrayed no fear, despite Felix’s royal lineage—after all, he was the son of Count Ambard, one of the most renowned noble families in the kingdom.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Royal Highness,” he said. “I am Bernie Jones, representing Minerva’s.”

His voice was a little lower than she remembered, but it was definitely him. Wavy blond hair, intellectual features, and a pair of slightly too large glasses.

But why…? How…? thought Monica, barely keeping herself from trembling. Her hand, now slick with a cold sweat, squeezed the front of her skirt. Her vision began to blink white as she recalled the last time she’d seen him.

His face, twisted with hate. His mocking eyes. The words he’d spoken, brimming with enmity.

As she started to hang her head, the corset dug into her ribs. She couldn’t let herself look at her feet. She had to straighten up.

Awkwardly, she fixed her posture as the players began exchanging greetings. Each student from all three schools would step forward and shake the hands of the others while introducing themselves in turn.

The first ones to give their greetings were the University students. All three were boys with their hair cut short. Their features made them look extremely serious, as if they were personally embodying the University’s strict school environment. Their teacher, a Mr. Redding, was a short-haired, sharp-eyed man in his forties.

After exchanging greetings with them, Monica turned back to face the representatives from Minerva’s. This group gave off a more scholarly impression, just like Bernie and their teacher. And at the moment, none of them was staring at Monica or trying to say anything.

It’ll be okay, she told herself desperately. Nobody knows I’m the Silent Witch. Nobody knows…

Bernie stepped up in front of her and extended his right hand. “I’m Bernie Jones. Pleased to meet you.”

Her rib cage hurt again. Usually, when the corset dug into her skin, it was because she was failing to keep up her posture. Back straight, back straight, she repeated to herself as she took Bernie’s hand.

“…I’m Monica Norton. It’s a pleasure…to make your acquaintance.”

Her voice came out a little stiff, but she didn’t stumble over the words.

Lana had told her a person’s first impression depended mostly on their posture and expression. While Monica found it difficult to put on a natural smile like everyone else, she managed to steady her face by tightly pursing her lips.

It would have been an exaggeration to say she felt like a completely different person, but the makeup Lana had applied nonetheless lent her a bit of courage.

I’ll be okay. Lana did my makeup. He’ll never know. He’ll never, ever know.

As she repeated that phrase to herself like a mantra, the University’s Mr. Redding looked over the players from Serendia Academy.

“It appears you have a different team from last year,” he observed, smoothly and politely in spite of his intimidating face.

Professor Boyd nodded gravely, his face like a mercenary’s. “Our school changes out its representatives every year.”

“Your team last year was incredibly strong,” replied Redding. “I had been looking forward to another battle of wits with them… Don’t you agree, Lord Pitman?”

The teacher from Minerva’s, apparently named Pitman, seemed a little distracted, however.

“Lord Pitman?” repeated Redding.

Suddenly snapping to attention, Pitman gave an awkward laugh. “Oh, yes. You’re right. Indeed.”

Mr. Redding seemed very straitlaced, while Pitman came off as a little absent-minded. But both teachers had praised the academy’s team of the previous year—in a way that might imply they didn’t consider this year’s players much of a threat.

Despite that, Professor Boyd declared, with a voice that seemed to reverberate from the depths of the earth, “We have another strong team this year.”

Professor Boyd was a man of few words, but each one he uttered carried incredible weight. Redding’s face appeared to tense up, but Pitman was still grinning.

“I look forward to it,” said Mr. Redding. “You’ll find the University’s team quite different this year.”

“Minerva’s has been blessed with many promising students as well,” added Pitman. “I believe it will be an exciting competition.”

The games hadn’t even started yet, and there were already more sparks flying between the teachers than the students.

Although the stated aim of this competition was to foster positive exchange among the three schools, it was still a venue in which they could compete for dominance. The University had recently been on a winning streak, but Serendia Academy had ended that quite handily the year before. They seemed particularly on edge today.

Mr. Redding threw a glance at Monica and narrowed his eyes. “I see Serendia once again has a girl on the team. Lady Claudia Ashley showed incredible skill last year. You said your name was Lady Monica Norton, yes? Shall I expect as much from you?”

Suddenly part of the conversation, Monica jolted. Not many girls competed in chess—even fewer were chosen as representatives for these tournaments. Apparently, she was the subject of a good amount of attention just because of her gender. She froze in place, her back ramrod straight.

Professor Boyd gently clapped Monica’s shoulder with a large hand. “She’s new but very promising.”

“Oh, then I very much look forward to it,” said Redding, sparks almost visibly flying between him and Boyd.

Almost at her limit, Monica maintained her posture and expression as she began to mentally calculate the value of pi.

“You’re really the center of attention, eh?” said Elliott casually, probably trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately, Monica was in no state to help out.

“Hey, Monica! Hey!” Elliott waved his hand in front of her face, but she didn’t hear a word he said.

“Two eight four seven five six four eight two three three seven eight six seven eight three one six five…”

“Oh no, she’s gone. It’s just like what happened with the accounting ledgers.”

Elliott sighed and put a hand to his forehead just as their second, Benjamin Mording, dramatically extended his hands and raised his voice.

“There is no need to worry! Serendia Academy’s wondrous trio performance is sure to capture the hearts of all who hear it! If Lady Norton is our virtuoso pianist and Elliott our mellow violinist, then I am the ever-changing cellist who shakes the hearts of the audience! Ahhh, I can hear it now—the cries of our listeners’ souls, moved by the music of our pieces!”

Monica had retreated to the world of numbers—and Benjamin to the world of music. Elliott, caught with one on either side, looked up at Professor Boyd with an utterly exhausted expression on his face. The competition hadn’t even started yet.

“…I finally understand why you made me the anchor,” said Elliott.

He’d drawn the short straw. It was up to him to serve as the glue and hold their team together.

While Monica recited the digits of pi, the anchors from each school drew lots to decide the order of the matches.

The first, held in the morning, would pit Serendia Academy against the University. After breaking for lunch, the second match would be Minerva’s versus Serendia. Then, after a short recess, the third would take place—between Minerva’s and the University.

That meant Monica’s team’s match against the students from Minerva’s, including Bernie, would be second, right after lunch. That said, Bernie was their team’s anchor, so he wouldn’t be playing against Monica, Serendia’s first player.

Once the opening ceremony was finished, they took a short break in advance of the first match. Monica left the waiting room and headed for the powder room, which had a mirror. She was a little worried the hair Lana had styled for her had started to come undone.

Given the number of young noblewomen at Serendia Academy, powder rooms were all over the place. Monica hurried into the nearest one and checked her hair and makeup. Confirming they were both fine, she gave herself a closer inspection in the mirror. It showed a normal girl with a healthy complexion.

There had been a mirror in the cabin she used to live in. Louis, unable to endure her appearance, had brought her one, instructing her to pay a little more attention to how she looked.

Monica had barely used it, though. She wasn’t interested in her appearance. At the time, she’d figured if she had to go out in public, she could just wear a hood.

But now I think I understand what Mr. Louis meant, she thought.

In society, one’s appearance was a weapon. Monica only needed to look as far as Felix and Bridget to see that. Keeping it up was the same as arming yourself. When she thought about it like that, her corset started to feel like a piece of armor. At first, she’d found it stifling—but now it was actually rather heartening.

She fixed her glasses—which had slipped a little—then said to herself in the mirror, “O-okay. Time to do my best.” Though she was a little embarrassed at putting words to her determination, she could feel courage well up within her.

She nodded to herself in the mirror, then left the powder room behind. There was still a little time until the first match started, but there was no harm in getting back early.

As she hurried down the hall, a figure appeared from around the corner in front of her. The moment she saw who it was, she almost tripped.

“Excuse me, Lady Monica Norton.”

Wavy blond hair and familiar old eyeglasses. A perfectly fitted Minerva’s uniform.

Monica had to try very hard not to immediately reply, Bernie!

Bernie had a friendly smile on his face. When around someone he knew well, his smile was always a little sardonic. But he was a high-born noble from a prestigious family—when it came to people he’d just met, he could reel in that sarcastic nature and act sociably. That was the sort of smile he wore now.

He doesn’t…realize I’m Monica Everett, does he? Monica thought, gulping. How was she supposed to respond? If she said the wrong thing, the cat might be out of the bag for good.

The correct move was to say she was in a hurry and head past him. And yet…

Bernie was the one who spoke to me.

It had been a long time since Bernie had said a word to her. It filled her heart with fondness and loneliness and caused her feet to come to a stop. He’d thrust her aside so coldly, and yet she was still happy he’d spoken to her.

“Would you happen to have a moment, Lady Norton?” he asked.

Monica nodded, still unable to speak.

Bernie returned a polite smile and continued. “I was surprised when I first met you. You look a lot like someone I used to know. And, coincidentally, you have the same first name.”

Someone he used to know… Ah, of course. He wouldn’t call me a friend at this point, thought Monica, privately disappointed. That disappointment surprised her. It seemed she still wanted to be Bernie’s friend, even after he’d started to hate her.

“By the way, Lady Norton, have you been going to Serendia Academy for long?”

“……”

Monica was a transfer student. If she nodded, he’d quickly find out it was a lie. But if she shook her head, his suspicions might turn into something more solid. She wasn’t sure whether to answer or not.

Unfortunately, the time she took to think proved fatal.

“Is there some reason you can’t say?” he asked, suddenly a little nearer to her. Up close, she could tell he’d gotten taller. Before, she had to look up only a little bit to meet his eyes, but now she had to crane her neck.

His eyes—narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses—watched her coldly, demanding an answer. She took a step back, only for him to immediately take a step forward, clearly unwilling to let her go.

What…do I do? What do I do? What do I do…?!

Monica clasped her hands at her chest and began to tremble.

And when Bernie saw her frightened demeanor, his stare grew even colder.

He’s angry, she thought. Bernie’s angry. I have to say I’m sorry. I have to beg for forgiveness…

Just as Monica, in the thrall of her memories, was about to start apologizing through trembling lips, someone yanked on her from behind.

From overhead came a voice—far more amused than the situation called for. “Hey, hey! Don’t you dare lay a hand on my woman, got it?”

Monica awkwardly twisted her neck to look up at the person standing next to her, who now had a hand on one of her shoulders. It was a tall, black-haired man, smirking and wearing formal attire.

N-Nero…?!

Why was he in formal dress? And had it really been necessary for him to use that romance-novel line at a time like this?

As she stood there, dumbfounded, she suddenly felt a weight on her other shoulder. Moving only her eyes to look, she saw a blond-haired man in formal attire just as gaudy as Nero’s—it was Ryn.

“Do not lay a hand on my woman, my lord.” His expression was sharp, but he’d said the exact same thing as Nero.

Monica’s eyes widened as far as they could go. Her mouth flapped open and closed. But Bernie was probably even more surprised than her at the two flamboyantly dressed men—completely out of place—suddenly showing up and interrupting.

“Wh-what’s with you people…?”

Yeah. What’s with you two? thought Monica, although she didn’t say it out loud, of course.

In any case, both Nero and Ryn seemed awfully enthusiastic about the whole thing, like they were really enjoying themselves. Her head started to hurt again. Nero’s eyes were practically sparkling. He hadn’t rushed over to her because he was worried—he’d just wanted to have some fun.

Ryn, on the other hand, gave Bernie an extremely grave look and declared, “A love triangle is a thing of great beauty, and in my personal opinion, it would be absolutely ruined by adding an additional side… And so I must ask you to withdraw.”

What an absurd argument.

But Bernie, whether intimidated by the blond man’s odd enthusiasm or just finding the whole thing ridiculous, took a step back. He looked a little embarrassed as he pushed his glasses back up with his index finger.

“…I apologize for bothering you before your match.”

That was all he said before turning his back to Monica and leaving.

Once Bernie was completely out of sight, Monica fell to her knees on the spot, exhausted. She felt a cold sweat covering her body, and she was pretty sure the encounter had taken a lot more out of her than the chess matches would.

“Hey, did you see that? Did you see my acting?! I was on point! Talk about awesome.”

“I feel as though I have accomplished today’s mission in its entirety with that one scene.”

Monica looked up at the smug pair and asked, in a voice so hoarse it made her sound like she was on her deathbed, “Um, what…are you wearing…?”

Both of them had on gorgeous outfits, the kind one might wear to a ball. They stuck out like sore thumbs.

Ryn answered coolly. “It was pointed out to me that with our apparent ages, we could not wear a uniform. So we revised our choice of clothing.”

“Revised…,” murmured Monica vacantly.

Ryn nodded. “The idea behind our disguises is that we’re a pair of overly excited fellers who wanted to put on our formal clothes even though the school festival hasn’t started yet.”

“Perfect disguises, right?!”

Both Ryn and Nero made it sound like their idea was a stroke of genius. Monica, caught between the flashy pair, couldn’t help but bury her face—along with her glasses—in her hands.

“Look, you two… I’m really grateful you saved me, but…please…I’m begging you—please just transform into a cat and a bird…”

She thoroughly regretted not giving them a sterner warning earlier that day.